


You Make Me Feel Like I am Home (Part Three)

by jeweldancer, Rowen (jeweldancer)



Series: You Make Me Feel Like I am Home [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Food, Illness, M/M, Obligatory 90s Reference, Paramedic Dean, Prostitution, Sex Worker Castiel, food insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 16:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17881346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweldancer/pseuds/jeweldancer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweldancer/pseuds/Rowen
Summary: Dean was so vibrant; Castiel couldn’t imagine anyone not noticing if he weren’t around. The commercial break ended, and Dean leaned forward, chin propped up on his hands. He laughed along with the banter of the judges, and offered his own opinions on the contestants’ work. Castiel felt something dangerously akin to contentment as he listened.He shook his head vigorously. Whatever he had with Dean was only temporary; something to remember on cold nights long after Dean had tired of him and moved on. “This too shall pass,” Castiel whispered.





	You Make Me Feel Like I am Home (Part Three)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't updated in a while, but someone left a nice comment that I should continue, so I've picked up this story again. I have big plans for it, so I'm hoping that everyone shows this little story some love. 
> 
> Pretty soon, more dramatic things will happen, and for a while things will get darker. But I'll update the tags soon so you'll know what's to come. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please let me know if you like it.

When Dean picked up Castiel that evening, he had already been by Ellen’s to pick up dinner, and the interior of the Impala smelled heavenly. “Meatloaf, chicken and rice, mac and cheese, green bean casserole, and rolls.” Dean looked at Castiel anxiously. “I hope there’s something that you like in there.”

Castiel laughed. “I like all of that. Did you buy out the diner?”

“Nah. Ellen closes early on Sundays, so she gave me everything that was left.”

“It smells divine, but I doubt that it can beat the pancakes we had this morning.”

Dean grinned. “Same place okay?”

“God, yeah. The Comfort Inn’s starting to feel like home away from home.” Cas realized, too late, that the word “home” stung. He took a deep breath and tried to will himself calm.

Dean glanced over, a look of concern on his face. How could he tell that something was wrong, even though he’d known Cas only a few days? Even Meg couldn’t tell sometimes; Castiel was well-schooled in hiding his feelings.

“Ellen sent us some pie, too.” Dean kept his eyes on the road, but his voice was comforting, like being wrapped in the softest of blankets. “A piece each of apple, cherry, and lemon. She said it would put some meat on your bones.”

“Ellen’s really nice,” Cas said, and was proud that there was only a slight catch in his voice. “In a bad-ass kind of way.”

Dean laughing was a thing of beauty. Castiel resolved to try to make him laugh more often.

“You’re exactly right, Cas. She’s taken quite a liking to you, too.”

They pulled up to the motel, and Cas didn’t have a chance to protest in the flurry of gathering up his dollar store bag, Dean’s duffle, and all of the food.

“Wait. Don’t you have to check in?”

“Nope. After I dropped you off this morning, I called the office and let them know we’d be extending our stay. It was still way before check-out time, so they were fine with it.” Dean beamed at him proudly.

“So we have the same room and everything.” Cas was unreasonably happy.

“Yep. Room 242, our old friend.”

They spread the food out between them like a picnic on Dean’s bed. Cas couldn’t decide whether to taste the meatloaf or the macaroni and cheese first, so he loaded up both on his fork and stuffed them into his mouth.

“Slow down there, buddy. There’s plenty.”

“It’s so good,” Cas mumbled. He didn’t usually talk with his mouth full.

“Glad you like it.” Dean smiled shyly at him across the bed.

There it was, that softness again. Cas made himself look away, and studied his plate. It reminded him of long-ago Thanksgivings, back when an over abundance of food was nothing to be marveled at.

For a few moments, there was silence except for the scratch of plastic cutlery on paper plates, and the occasional sigh of contentment. Dean served himself more chicken and rice.

“Have some more, Cas. It’ll go to waste.” There was only a little bit of mac and cheese left, and Cas eyed it longingly. Dean pushed it toward him across the bedspread. “There ya go. Have at it.”

Cas dipped directly into the container and took a huge bite. This was his favorite comfort food, but he hadn’t had the homemade version in ages. He scraped the edges with his fork, not wanting to miss even of a smidgen of the cheese sauce.

“I think I’ll have to wait a little while on the pie. I’m stuffed.” Dean crumpled up his plate and tossed it into the little trash can. Cas helped him clean up, placing the leftovers on the table in the corner.

“I’m gonna go ahead and shower. I gotta get to sleep by about ten.”

“When do you need to get up?”

“Around six should be fine. My shift starts at seven, but my work’s not that far from your...um, where you need to go.” Dean flushed slightly, but Cas pretended not to notice.

After Cas took his turn in the shower, Dean was sound asleep, face squashed into the pillows. Cas found that he didn’t mind. Dean looked peaceful, and they had both eaten too much to properly enjoy dessert anyway. He muted the television so as not to disturb Dean, and turned on closed captioning. Dean had chosen HGTV, and Cas watched as the show’s hosts remodeled a house to flip. He got through two episodes before drifting off.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas hummed happily and tried to burrow deeper under the covers. He was warm and safe and comfortable, and his sleepy brain saw no reason to wake.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Don’t you want some pie?” Dean sat down on the edge of Cas’s bed, takeout container in hand. Cas blinked at him. “Here,” Dean murmured, loading up the fork with a small chunk of cherry pie and extending it to Cas. “Taste.” Cas took the fork and popped the bite of pie into his mouth.

He’d never been a huge fan of cherry pie--too sweet--but Ellen’s had a nice hint of tartness, and the crust was flaky and buttery. “Mmm.” Cas propped himself up on his elbows.

“See? Worth getting up for.”

Cas sat up in bed, yawning, and Dean placed all three pie containers on the bed between them. “Here, try the apple, too. It’s the perfect breakfast pie.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, haven’t you?” Cas used the fork to take a bite of the apple pie. “You’re not wrong, though.”

“Now the lemon.” Dean scooted the third container toward him.

“I don’t like lemon.” Cas wrinkled his nose.

“More for me, then.” Dean cut off a large bite of the lemon pie and stuffed it into his mouth. “Mmmm.”

“All right, I’ll try it. Just a tiny bite, though.” Castiel scrunched up his face, waiting for sourness to hit his tongue. “Oh, wow. The lemon’s good, too. Ellen’s like some kind of kitchen magician.”

“I’ll tell you a secret. I’m the only one who has all of Ellen’s recipes.”

Cas was stunned. “You can cook?”

“Not nearly as good as Ellen, but I’m no slouch. Maybe I’ll make you a pie sometime.” Dean grinned at him happily before taking another bite of cherry filling.

Castiel’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. _Get ahold of yourself, Cas. Dean didn’t mean that. He’s just talking, like people do._ He finished the rest of the slice of apple before rolling out of bed. “I better get ready. Don’t wanna make you late.” Cas grabbed his bag and ducked into the bathroom. It took him less than five minutes, total.

Dean whistled teasingly as Castiel appeared. “That was fast.”

“Well, when you’re as hot as I am, you don’t need much time to get ready.”

“Very true. Ready to hit the road?”

  
Cas woke at 2 pm, stomach growling, and he reached for the granola bar Dean had insisted he take with him. He shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, then drank a glass of tap water before going back to bed. Ruby was sitting on the battered sofa, painting her toenails, but she didn’t even look up as he passed.

When Castiel opened his eyes again late in the afternoon, his heart sank. Rain was battering the tiny window panes above his dresser. He had no way of knowing if Dean would actually show up again, and the overhang he usually stood under while waiting for clients was not nearly wide enough to keep off the rain. He’d just have to hope that either Dean would come or that someone else would want a soaking wet prostitute.

Meg was standing in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee and staring out the window at the terrible weather. She looked a bit pale, and Cas’s heart sank. If Dean showed, he’d ask for two of the granola bars tomorrow morning; Meg probably wasn’t getting enough to eat. He touched her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Never better. Just had trouble getting to sleep, is all.” She took a sip of coffee. “You look pretty bright-eyed, though.”

Castiel leaned in. “Listen, Meg, if you feel bad, go back to bed. I’ll split my money with you.”

She squinted at him. “You seem awfully sure that you’re even gonna get anything in this weather.”

“Um. Repeat customer.” He hoped, anyway.

Meg rubbed her eyes. “Can’t let you do that, Clarence. I’ll be all right.”

“Just think about it, okay?” Cas gave her a quick hug and hit the stairs. By the time he reached the sidewalk, he was already shivering, and it turned out the rain was blowing straight into his usual spot.

He couldn’t go anywhere else, though. If Dean came, he might not find him. Castiel turned slightly away from the wind and waited. Ten minutes later, his heart leaped as he heard the distinctive sound of the Impala.

Dean pulled over and leaned out the window, concern written all over his face. “Jesus, Cas, it’s awful out here. Get in the car this minute. I brought a blanket for you.” He opened the door for Castiel, and draped a worn but soft blanket over him. “Dry off on that, okay? I’ve got the heater turned up, and I brought you a cup of coffee from the station. It’s not real good, but it’ll warm you up.”

Cas warmed his hands on the paper coffee cup. “Thank you,” he managed, teeth chattering.

“God, you shouldn’t have to be out in weather like this. I worried about you all afternoon; left work the second I could. Will you be okay until we get to the motel?”

“I’m good, Dean. Really. The coffee and the blanket are helping.”

“Well, you can get in a nice warm shower the minute we get there, and I’ll call for takeout. Sound okay?”

“Yeah. What are we gonna eat?”

“Anything you want. Pizza, Chinese food, sandwiches...just name it.”

Castiel fidgeted. “I don’t want you to spend a lot more money on me, Dean. Whatever’s cheapest.”

“It’s all about the same, man. We had pizza a couple days ago, so I say that’s out. There’s a really good sandwich shop nearby that delivers, how about that?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Anything you don’t like on a sandwich?”

“No mustard or onions. Anything else is fine.”

Dean started to reach over and adjust Castiel’s blanket, but quickly checked himself. “You’re easy to please.”

Cas shrugged. When they pulled into the Comfort Inn parking lot, Dean insisted that Castiel wrap himself in the blanket while he carried their bags. They rushed upstairs to to the room, where Dean cranked up the thermostat.

“Get in there and get out of those soaking wet clothes. Take as long as you need to warm up; I’ll knock on the door when the food gets here.”

Castiel closed the bathroom door behind him and started filling the bathtub before he peeled off his jeans and shirt. He wrung the excess water out and hung them on the shower curtain rod to dry.

The hot bath felt amazing, and Cas ducked his head completely under the water, blowing bubbles as he surfaced. After he washed his hair, he rolled up a towel to use as a headrest and closed his eyes. He must have drifted off, because it only seemed like a couple of minutes before Dean knocked softly.

“You awake in there, Cas? You been awfully quiet. The food’s here.”

“Be right out.” Cas put on his pajamas, grateful to have dry clothing. Hopefully his regular clothes would be completely dry before morning.

Dean had the food spread out on the dresser. “So I got a couple different kinds of sandwiches, so I’d be sure to get one you liked. And we got chips, AND peanut butter cookies.”

“I’ll have a sandwich and chips.”

“You like pie, but not cookies. Check.”

Castiel looked away. “Pie’s better than cookies.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Cas put some of the chips directly on his sandwich, which seemed to please Dean very much, and they ate in companionable silence. Dean had tuned the television to the finals of some kind of baking championship on the Food Network. He had apparently been following the entire season and was excited to see would win, so Castiel waited until a commercial break to speak.

“Don’t Sam and Jo wonder why you’re never at home anymore?”

“I told ‘em I’m spending some time with a friend. Sam works long hours, and Jo works different shifts. It’s possible they haven’t noticed how much I’ve been gone.” Dean crammed several chips into his mouth.

Dean was so vibrant; Castiel couldn’t imagine anyone not noticing if he weren’t around. The program returned, and Dean leaned forward, chin propped up on his hands. He laughed along with the banter of the judges, and offered his own opinions on the contestants’ work. Castiel felt something dangerously akin to contentment as he listened.

He shook his head vigorously. Whatever he had with Dean was only temporary; something to remember on cold nights long after Dean had tired of him and moved on. “This too shall pass,” Castiel whispered.

“What didja say?”

“Um, I think I might try some of the other sandwich.”

“Knock yourself out, Cas.”

Dean went to bed directly after the program ended, and Castiel got underneath his own covers. They had turned out most of the lights, and muted the television. A few minutes after he thought that Dean must surely be asleep, he heard a whispered, “Hey, Cas. You awake?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Thanks for watching the Baking Championship with me. Sam thinks those shows are dumb, and Jo always says that they’re rigged. And, I mean, maybe they are, but why spoil the fun?”

“I don’t think that this one was rigged,” Castiel assured him.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

  
Dean shook Castiel awake the next morning. “Bad news, man. Your shirt’s dry, but your jeans are still soaking wet.”

Cas groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

“We should have hung them on the heating vent.”

“I don’t think that would have helped, Dean. And it seems like it might be a fire hazard.”

“Well, anyway, I’ve solved that problem. I’m gonna wear my jeans from yesterday--I mean, I change into my uniform as soon as I get to work anyway--and you can wear the clean pair that I packed.”

Castiel gave him an uncertain look. “Will they fit?”

“Course they will. You’re skinnier than I am, so you’ll be able to wear them, no problem.” Dean tossed the jeans onto Cas’s bed. “Now come on, up and at ‘em.”

The jeans were slightly too long, and much too baggy. Cas frowned at them. “I feel like I’m back in the nineties.”

“Well, they’re dry, and that’s the important thing. I’ll take your jeans and wash ‘em, and bring them back tonight.” Dean beamed at him, and Castiel could not find the wherewithal to protest.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Could I have two of the granola bars?”

“Course you can. You don’t even have to ask; they’re yours.” Dean hesitated. “I guess you get hungry during the day. I wish you could take something more substantial with you.”

“The extra one’s for a friend.” Cas smoothed some wrinkles out of the bedspread. “She didn’t look so hot last night.”

“Is she sick? Or just not getting enough to eat?” Dean asked quietly. “Cas?”

He couldn’t look at Dean. “I don’t know. I mean, of course she’s not getting enough to eat. But I think she’s feeling rundown, more than anything. She said she couldn’t sleep.”

Dean nodded. “Well, take three of the granola bars. My jean pockets are bigger, so you should be able to hide them.” He lugged his first aid kit onto the bed and sorted through it, presenting Castiel with some small packets. “Here. This one’s for stomachache, this one’s for pain, and this is an antihistamine. Maybe it’ll bring her a little relief.”

Cas nodded, and frowned at the antihistamine packet. “I don’t think she has allergies.”

“Probably not. But it might help her sleep.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” He tucked the medicines deep into a pocket.

“And Cas? If you think she’s really sick, or in any danger, you can tell me. Jo volunteers with a place that helps people like that. They could see to it that she gets somewhere safe.”

Castiel felt a lump in his throat, and he nodded again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Neither of them spoke on the ride back, until the Impala pulled up to the curb and stopped. Dean took a deep breath. “Be careful, okay? I hope your friend feels better. I’ll...I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thank you, Dean. Until then.” Castiel jogged up the steps, heart pounding as he walked into the communal living space. Claire and Kaia were leaned against the kitchen counter, whispering to each other. They looked Cas up and down as he approached, then dissolved into giggles.

“Nice pants, man,” Claire managed.

“Have a little respect for your elders, if you don’t mind.”

“MC Hammer called,” Kaia informed him, “and he wants his pants back.”

Claire high-fived her.

“How do you two even know about MC Hammer?”

“We watched a nineties special on MTV once.”

“Anyway. Have either of you seen Meg this morning?”

“Went to bed already,” Claire replied.

“She looked a bit rough,” Kaia said softly. “Tired, I guess.”

“Thank you. I’m going to take her some water and check on her.”

Claire shrugged, and began whispering to the other girl again. Castiel filled a glass from the faucet and carried it carefully down the hall. He knocked softly on Meg’s door.

“I’m asleep, goddammit.”

“Obviously not, if you’re able to curse.”

“Clarence. Get in here.”

Meg was sitting up in bed. Her face was a trifle paler than it had been the following evening, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Castiel closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of the bed. “I brought you some water. How’re you doing?”

Meg ran a hand through her dark hair. “Been better. But I’ll be all right.”

“I brought you something else.” Castiel gave her two of the granola bars, and produced the medicine packets. “For stomachache, pain, and to help you sleep. I didn’t know which you needed, so I took ‘em all.”

“Where’d you get these?”

“Never mind. From a friend.”

Meg narrowed her eyes. “The repeat customer?”

“Maybe. Listen, Meg, he’s an EMT. These are okay, I promise.”

“Well, we’ll see. I’m gonna take all three of them.” Meg tore open the wrappers and swallowed all the pills, then ate both the granola bars. Castiel gathered up the trash and wadded it up as small as it would go, and put it in his pocket. He could throw it away tomorrow night.

“I’m gonna hang out here for a little while.”

“You’re a big softy, you know that?” Meg lay back and scooted under the covers. “Be careful, Cas.”

“I am careful.”

“I mean it. Be careful with this repeat customer guy. People don’t give you something for nothing.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right, Clarence.” Meg closed her eyes. “Are you going to sit there and watch me sleep? That’s kinda creepy, you know.”

Castiel snorted. “Heaven forbid anyone show you any concern. I guess I’d rather go to bed than be considered a creeper.” He shifted his weight, preparing to stand, but Meg’s tiny hand shot out and grasped his arm.

“Thanks, Cas. Love ya.”

“Love you too, Meg.” Castiel ruffled her hair, and eased out the door. 

 

 


End file.
